Accomplices
by superdupersk8r61
Summary: Be my accomplice. I think we'd make a good team, you and I. It could be fun... Izzie and Alex have caught Meredith sneaking back into the house very early in the morning, with Mark Sloan trailing in behind her. What exactly happened the night before?


**A/N:** Okay, so as much I'm a big Izzie/Mark shipper, I've recently been rewatching season 3 in anticipation of the new season of Grey's and I couldn't help but notice how much I _love_ Meredith/Mark friendship banter. So, I decided I would try out a Meredith/Mark friendship oneshot. I hope it turned out well...

**Disclaimer:** Clearly, I don't own anything to do with _Grey's Anatomy_. Or anything to do with the songs mentioned in the fic.

* * *

**Accomplices**

Meredith Grey tiptoed slowly into her house early Sunday morning, hoping to remain unseen. Her wishes were unanswered, however, because as soon as she turned around from shutting the front door, her two roommates, Izzie Stevens and Alex Karev, stepped out from either side of the front hallway and stood facing her, their arms crossed, blocking her path.

"Where the hell have you been?" Alex asked immediately, staring her down like a police officer who was interrogating a suspect would.

Meredith opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a chance, Izzie uncrossed her arms and put one on her hip and held the other one out, pointing at Meredith, silencing her. "And don't even think about saying you were with Derek. He was on call last night."

Meredith looked at Izzie incredulously, forgetting for a moment that her roommates had just caught her sneaking back into the house in the very early hours of the morning. "Why would you even know that?" she asked, confused.

"You told us. Before you left work," Izzie stated simply.

"Which returns us to my original question," Alex interjected, getting the conversation back on track. "Where the hell have you been?"

Meredith looked back and forth from Alex to Izzie, both of them waiting for some sort of response. She looked between them, she, herself, searching for some sort of suitable response. She knew how bad the situation must have looked, and she wasn't exactly sure how to convey the events of the previous night to her friends without them sounding, well, _dirty_.

She sighed loudly. "It's a long story," she began, pushing past her friends. "A very long story that I don't feel like going into at the moment. I'm tired and I'm going to sleep," she said, walking halfway up the staircase before pausing to turn around and look back at her roommates.

Izzie's mouth dropped open. "Oh, my God! She has dirty in her eyes!" she whispered loudly to Alex. "Did you cheat on Derek?" she asked, looking back to Meredith.

"Izzie!" Meredith exclaimed, shocked by Izzie's allegations. "I-" she began to defend herself.

"You are wearing last night's clothes," Alex observed pointedly.

Meredith gasped again. "Alex!"

Izzie studied Meredith for a moment. "She is!" she exclaimed in realization. "You are!" she said, directed back at Meredith, her eyes widening. "Oh, you _so _did the dirty! But with who?" she asked, smirking slightly.

"There was absolutely, 100 percent, no dirty going on," Meredith insisted sharply.

Alex and Izzie exchanged glances, clearly not believing her. "Then where were you?" Alex asked accusatorily.

"Like I said. Long story. One which I may decide to tell you later, if you leave me alone so I can go to sleep," she said sternly, ending the conversation and continuing up the stairs before she heard a fourth voice enter the equation.

"Hey, Grey. You forgot your jacket in my-" Mark Sloan called, letting himself into the house, but stopped short when he saw there was an audience. "Stevens. Karev. Beautiful morning, isn't it?" he asked casually, as if the current situation they all found themselves in at the moment was completely normal.

When he didn't receive any response from any of the interns, he continued. "All right, well, guess it's time for me to be going. After all, it was a long night," he said, flashing his classic "McSteamy" grin as he shot a wink at Meredith, hung her jacket on the coat-rack near the door and walked out.

The interns remained silent for a few moments after Mark left until Izzie finally spoke up. "Seriously?! You did the dirty with McSteamy?"

Meredith sat down on the stairs with an exacerbated sigh. "Izzie! For the last time, nothing happened!" she exclaimed, even though all evidence was pointing toward the contrary.

"Maybe we'd believe you if you told us this 'long story' of yours," Alex said.

Meredith rolled her eyes, knowing her friends weren't going to let this one go. "All right. Fine. Fine. You win," she conceded.

Izzie and Alex grinned triumphantly at each other and they both took a seat on the stairs. Meredith took a deep breath and began. "It all started when I decided to get a drink at Joe's after my shift last night…"

* * *

Meredith sat in loud, crowded bar, slowly twirling her straw around her Long Island Ice Tea. None of her friends had decided to join her that night, they all had to work in the morning, and Derek was on-call the whole night. 

Even though she was alone, she could appreciate the time to drown herself in her own thoughts. That is, until a leather jacket-clad man smothered in cologne leaned on the bar next to her, interrupting her silence.

"This seat taken?" he asked, nodding toward the empty seat next to her.

Looking up from her drink, Meredith saw that the man was none other than Mark Sloan. Smiling slightly at the memory of the same man's ex-best-friend asking that same question not too long along and the wild ride it's been since then, Meredith answered him. "You know, you people should really get a new line. It gets old."

"Us people?" Mark asked, his eyebrows rising in amusement.

"Yeah. You people," she reiterated. "You stupid boys with your stupid boy penises."

He smirked at her typical pessimistic response. He liked Meredith. She was one of the few people who didn't put up with all his crap. "What did Derek do this time?"

Meredith shot him a look. "Why do you always assume there's a problem with Derek and me? Maybe I have a problem with you," she said, raising her glass to her lips, tasting the bitter liquid flow down her throat as she peered at him from over the rim.

"Okay, first of all," he said, holding out one finger, "there's always a problem with Derek and you. And second," he said, throwing out another one, "I know you don't have a problem with me," he said confidently.

Meredith scoffed at his self-assurance. "How could you possibly know-"

Mark cut her off with a grin. "You don't have a problem with me, Grey. You're harboring a secret desire for me," his tone indicating that he was merely joking.

"Oh, someone's a little high on themselves," Meredith retorted, continuing the banter. "But take a seat," she said, pulling the bar stool out for him.

"I knew it. Secret desire," he said, raising his arm to grab the attention of Joe, the bartender. Turning back to Meredith, his voice become more serious. "Okay, really, something must have upset you if you're ranting about 'stupid boy penises'," he said, actually seeming concerned, as Joe delivered his drink, a double scotch, single malt.

"It's nothing," she insisted, shrugging him off.

Mark laid a hand on hers. "What's the matter, Grey? You don't trust me?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't," she shot, pulling her hand out from under his. "And not that it's any of your business, but tomorrow is the first day off I've had in weeks and Derek is on call."

He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "That's what you're bitching about? He's a brain surgeon. He works a lot. Get over it."

Meredith shook her head incredulously. "See? That, right there, that is why people don't tell you things."

"What?" Mark asked, trying to come off as innocent, but not being able to hide the smirk on his face.

"I should have known not to expect any sympathy from you."

He shrugged. "Probably not. But if you want sympathy-" he trailed off, getting Joe's attention once again. "Joe, another round on me."

Meredith studied him carefully. "Well, that was surprisingly kind," she acknowledged gratefully.

"I know," he said, laughing as Joe delivered the drinks. "Here's to the Dirty Mistresses Club," he said, lifting his glass toward Meredith's.

She pulled her glass away before his reached it. "Excuse me. I am _not_ a dirty mistress anymore. I happen to be in a normal, healthy relationship," she told him defensively.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink, not looking at Meredith. "Well, so am I."

Meredith could only look at him with an amused expression on her face. "Yeah, I didn't believe me either," he smirked.

"You know, if you would stop being such a man-whore I'm sure Addison would give you a chance," Meredith admonished.

Mark reached up and tucked a stray piece of Meredith's hair back behind her ear. "Now where would the fun be in that?" he asked, looking her up and down suggestively.

Meredith lightly slapped his hand away. "Stop it. You're breaking our rules again."

"You've got to be kidding me," he groaned in frustration. Then, curiosity got the better of him. "Which one?" he asked.

"All three."

"I think it's about time we made some new rules," Mark decided, scooting his stool closer to Meredith's. "Perhaps some more appropriate for the DMC," he said, leaning in toward her.

Meredith knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. "The DMC?" she questioned.

"The Dirty Mistresses Club. I abbreviated. Keep up with me here, Grey."

"There is no way we're having any 'official meetings.'"

Mark scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. That ship has sailed. It would have been fun at the time, but now I couldn't be less interested."

"Hey!" Meredith exclaimed, as she couldn't help but feel a little offended.

He shrugged. "Nothing against you, of course. You're a fine, foxy female-"

"Nice alliteration," she acknowledged.

"Thanks. But you're too much of a challenge. It isn't fun for me."

"So, let me get this straight," Meredith began, staring him right in the eyes. "You would rather have girls who just swoon at your feet?"

"Well, yeah," Mark answered unabashedly.

Meredith couldn't help but laugh. "You're unbelievable. Anyone ever tell you that?"

He considered this for a second before answered. "Oh, just about every girl that has experienced my-"

"Okay," Meredith stopping him, holding out her hand. "More information than I ever needed to know."

Mark grinned at her reaction. "Just know you're missing out, Grey," he joked.

She smiled a sweet, sarcastic smile. "I think I'll survive."

He slowly nodded his head, appreciating the fact that not only was Meredith able to hold her own against his charm, but was also able to dish it right back. "Well, you know, since we are the dirty mistresses-"

Meredith cut him off. "I'm _not_-"

"Once a dirty mistress, always a dirty mistress," he said, smoothly, sipping his drink. "And I say we help each other out," he continued, ignoring the death glare Meredith was shooting him.

"I'm not scratching your itch, Sloan."

Mark let out a short, loud laugh upon hearing Meredith's comment. "Is your mind _always_ in the gutter, Grey?" he said, shaking his head critically. "For the last time, that's not what I'm talking about.

Meredith shot him a disbelieving look, so Mark clarified. "I'm thinking that you should be my wingman tonight."

Meredith raised an eyebrow. "Wingman?" she asked, a hint of amusement playing in her voice.

Mark slung his arm around Meredith's shoulders. "My wingman. My accomplice. Help me pick up a tasty little treat tonight. I think we'd make a good team, you and I. It could be fun."

"Why on earth would I do that for you?" she asked sharply, shrugging him off of her.

"You help me out, I help you out."

She scoffed. "What could you possibly do for me?" she asked, slightly laughing.

Mark's face broke into a seductive grin as he raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Well-"

"Mark!" Meredith exclaimed.

"Okay, okay," he said laughing, unable to hold a straight face. She got riled up way to easily. "Don't get your panties all up in a bunch. For each phone number you help me get, I'll buy you a drink."

"I wouldn't think a man-whore like yourself would need anyone's help when it comes to picking up women," she said, grinning smugly, throwing the crap Mark threw at her right back at him.

"I don't. But I figured I'd be kind and offer you an opportunity to have a little fun tonight."

"I'm not seeing how watching you objectify women would be fun for me."

"Hello? Free drinks, remember?" he said, picking up Meredith's nearly empty glass and waving it in her face.

Meredith crossed her arms and regarded him carefully. "Are you sure you're not just trying to get me drunk?"

Mark threw his head back with a frustrated groan. "Oh, for chissakes, Grey," He picked his head back up and looked her straight in the eyes. "I swear I will deliver you safely to your house at the end of the night if you are incapacitated to the point of endangering others if you drive."

"Swear on your sex life," she insisted.

He rolled his eyes impatiently, but nevertheless, he placed his right hand over his heart. "I swear on my sex life that I will not partake in any funny business," he recited dutifully. "At least with you," he added as an afterthought.

Meredith pursed her lips in thought. His offer did sound tempting. After all, who was she to refuse free drinks? And besides, what's the worst that would happen. "All right," she decided. "You've got yourself a deal," she said, offering her hand to Mark.

"That's the spirit!" he exclaimed, shaking her hand.

Meredith put an elbow on the bar, and her head in her hand. "So how does this whole thing work, exactly? I've never been a wingman before."

Mark mirrored her position, and he explained one of the inner working's of a male's mind. "It's simple really. When I draw a girl over here with my charm and sheer animal magnetism, you heighten my attractiveness-"

"The way you talk one wouldn't think that was possible," Meredith muttered sarcastically, cutting him off.

He squinted his eyes in thought. "Hmm. Good point," he said with a cocky grin. "Well, I'll put it this way: You help me sell myself to the woman. Make comments about how amazing I am. And, you know, acting like you find me irresistibly attractive wouldn't hurt either because then it become like a game to her. She'll want to win the prize. Which is, of course, me."

Meredith sat up straight. "That's disgusting," she admonished, starting to regret her decision.

Mark sat up as well. "Free drinks, Grey," he reminded her in a sing-song voice, taunting her.

Meredith looked away from him, a debate raging inside her head. On one hand, she would be helping Mark degrade women. But on the other hand, she was bored and at least he was entertaining enough, and of course…free drinks.

She turned back to Mark, shaking her head, mumbling incoherently. Taking that as a 'yes' he grinned triumphantly, and began scanning the bar in search of his first 'target'.

"Well, okay then. I think I'll start with…her," he proclaimed, his icy blue eyes landing on a woman across the room.

Meredith followed his gaze until she found who he was talking about. "Typical," she scoffed. His 'target' couldn't have been more than 21 years old, with bouncy blonde hair and big, fake-looking breasts. Her top could not have been tighter and her skirt could not have been shorter.

She watched as Mark made eye contact with the blonde. He flashed her his classic "McSteamy face", and the next thing Meredith knew, within she standing in between her and Mark.

"This seat's free," Mark said, nodding to the empty stool next to himself.

"I'm Ashley," she said, batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair around a finger. Meredith rolled her eyes at the exchange. Seriously, could those two be any less _obvious?_

"The name's Mark," he said, suggestively running his fingers up and down her arm.

Meredith, remembering her 'mission' and the promise of free drinks, interrupted before the pair started mounting each other on the bar. "You know, everyone calls him McSteamy, on account of he's so damn sexy and everything," she said, her expression dead-paned. "Oh, and yeah, he's a plastic surgeon."

Mark pried his eyes away from Ashley long enough to shoot a glare in Meredith's direction. "Could you be any less subtle?" he whispered sharply.

"Could you pick anyone less challenging?" she shot back quickly. "Don't doubt me," she said confidently, nodding toward Ashley.

Mark turned back around and saw that the blonde was eating Meredith's information right up. "Like, oh, my God. A surgeon? Really?" she asked, laying a perfectly manicured hand on his thigh. "That's _soo _hott," she drawled, a la Paris Hilton, as she rubbed her hand up and down.

"He's even being considered for _Chief _of Surgery. That means he'd be the boss of all the surgeons in the hospital," Meredith said, peering over Mark's shoulder to feed Ashley that piece of information.

"Wow," the blonde replied, never taking her eyes off Mark. "I love a man in power," she said, practically salivating. Meredith could practically see the cash signs in her eyes.

Mark turned back to Meredith. "It's working. Keep going, Grey."

"That's all I've got. You're not exactly the easiest person to list redeeming qualities for."

Mark thought for a moment. "Flirt with me," he whispered, eyes widening in urgency.

"What?" Meredith asked in shock.

"Just do it."

"But-"

"Free drinks," he reminded her yet again.

"Fine," she agreed grudgingly. She slipped her arm around Mark shoulders and spoke to Ashley. "And there was this one time where me and him took pieces of a woman's skull to reconstruct her face."

She looked at Mark with a forced admiring smile. "He was amazing in surgery," she said, getting into the part as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Mark stole a glance at the blonde next to him, who had recoiled from Mark and was looking at Meredith as if she just noticed she was there. Smiling, knowing it was working, he placed his hand over Meredith's. "Well, that's because you were in there with me," looking into her eyes almost lovingly.

Meredith had to bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. "Yeah, we certainly do operate well together, don't we?" she said, leaning in closer to him, tilting her head.

"I'd say," Mark replied, reciprocating her actions, that is, until he was stopped by an urgent tapping on his shoulder.

"You know, I'm a surgeon too," Ashley commented quickly, obvious jealousy radiating in her statement.

Mark shot Meredith a wink before turning back to the blonde. "Really?" he asked.

Meredith also looked at her in interest. She was a surgeon? That ought to be good.

"Yeah. Like, a cosmetic one." "_Yeah, right_," Meredith thought.

But still, Meredith knew why she was there and continued on her mission, playing along. "Hey, look. Just like you," she said, nudging Mark in the side with her elbow. "Have you ever done a rhinoplasty?" she asked, knowing full well that the blonde most likely had never even heard the word.

Ashley look at Meredith in confusion. Meredith could see the wheels in her head turning, trying to think of a response. "Well, by 'cosmetic' I mean more, like, nails and makeup," she said, admitting defeat.

"You mean, like a beautician?" Meredith asked, mocking her.

Ashley sent Meredith a look of pure hatred. "We prefer cosmetologists, thank you very much."

Mark looked back and forth between the two women. He had to hand it to Meredith, the girl sure did know how to make another woman jealous. He was just waiting for Ashley's claws to come out. But in the meantime, he had to continue his conquest. "I find that fascinating," he said, giving the blonde another seductive grin.

"Thanks," she replied, giggling, happy to once again be the focus of the surgeon's attention.

"We are alike, you and I," Mark said, turning on his 'A' game, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. "We're both making the world a sexier place."

"Exactly," she replied, eating it right up. "One ugly person at a time," she said with a smile as well as a pointed stare right at Meredith.

"Oh, please," Meredith with a less-than-ladylike snort.

"You know," Ashley said to Mark, getting up with a glare in Meredith's direction. "I have to get going, but I'm going to give you my number just in case you, like, ever wanna discuss the _sex_ification of our patients," she said, writing her number on a stray cocktail napkin before walking away.

"I'll be sure to do that, Ashley," Mark called after her.

"Nice meeting you, Ashley," Meredith added sarcastically.

Hearing Meredith's voice, Ashley stopped, turned around and marched right back over to the pair and planted a long kiss right on Mark's lips. When she was finished, she smirked triumphantly at Meredith, and whispered to Mark, "Call me."

Mark turned to Meredith, who was looking at him in amusement. "Sexification?" she asked incredulously.

He could only laugh. "I guess I owe you a drink, Grey," he said, motioning to Joe for another round, honoring his side of the deal.

"You know, that was kind of fun," Meredith acknowledge, taking a sip of her newly attained drink. "Who's our next target?"

"Seriously?" Mark asked, laughing.

Meredith genuinely smiled, amazed at how much fun she was having. "Well, we do operate well together," she said, starting to laugh as well.

"I like the way you think," Mark said, a hint of pride in his voice, as he scanned the room once again. "Now what do you think about her?"

* * *

"Hold it," Izzie said, interrupting Meredith's story. "I don't get it. This little story is all well and good and everything, seriously, I'm all for the manly bonding, or whatever the hell you two were doing, but what does any of this have to do with you waltzing in here at 6 in the morning with McSteamy trailing in after you? 

"What's not to get, Iz?" Alex asked. "Clearly their little 'system' or whatever worked really well, and Sloan had to keep buying her drinks and then they ended up together."

Meredith smacked Alex on the arm. "I'm glad you think so highly of me, Alex."

"What?" he asked, rubbing his arm. "You get drunk and you sleep with inappropriate men. It's your thing. I get it. I can appreciate that."

Meredith threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "How many times do you want me to say it? I _did not _sleep with Sloan!"

"Well then, why-" Izzie began.

"If you would stop interrupting me, I could finish the story," Meredith commented smartly.

"Yeah, Iz. Stop interrupting her," Alex admonished.

Izzie waved at Meredith, signaling for her to continue. "Carry on."

"Like I was saying, so I played the part of Sloan's wingman for a while longer, until it was time to head out…"

* * *

"So what number was that, Grey?" Mark asked, as he watched him and Meredith's latest conquest walk away with a new number safely in his hand. 

"I don't know," Meredith said with a scoff, waving him off. "Like eleventy-seven?" she answered, her words slurring slightly.

Mark laughed, taking in the sight of the intern next to him. "Well, it must have been quite a few, seeing as you are quite drunk at the moment."

"Correction," Meredith said, holding out a finger, trying to focus her eyes on his. "I am _very_ drunk."

He shook his head with a chuckle. "My apologies."

"It's okay," Meredith said, patting him on the back. "I forgive you. But no matter how drunk I am, I'm _still_ not having sex with you. Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope," she insisted, shaking her head fervently.

"Nobody's asking you to."

Meredith tilted her head to the side in thought. "Oh. Right," she said, a look of slight disappointed crossing her features. But apparently, while drunk, Meredith had an attention span of about three seconds, because almost immediately, her face lit up again she she spotted a voluptuous brunette enter the bar. "Ooo! How about her? She's hott!" she exclaimed brightly, almost falling off the stool.

Luckily, Mark caught her before she could fall too far. "I think that's enough for tonight, Grey."

Meredith pouted her lip disappointedly. "Time to go?" she asked, her voice bordering dangerously close to a whine.

"Yeah, it's time to go," he repeated, holding his palm out to her.

"What?" Meredith asked confused.

"Give me your keys."

"I'm not drunk," she said, giggling.

"Two seconds ago you admitted to being 'very drunk'."

"Yeah. But that was two whole seconds ago," she said like it was obvious. "I'm fine now," she insisted, digging her keys out of her purse.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he asked, amused.

"I'm perfect," she reiterated, making the "ok" symbol with her hands.

"Okay, if you're so perfect…," Mark began, swiping her keys as he got up from the stool and walked a couple of feet away, "…come get your keys," he taunted, swinging them in front of him.

With a determined pout on her face, Meredith slid off the stool. But as soon as she was stood up, she promptly fell over.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Mark said, going over to help her up. "Let's go, you're coming with me," he said, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her out of the bar.

Once they were in out in the parking lot, he led her over to a sleek, very expensive-looking, silver, Porsche Carrera.

"Ooo, this is your car? It's so _shiny_," Meredith squealed, as she admired her reflection in the passenger door.

"It is," Mark confirmed, opening the door and helping Meredith in. "And it's also so expensive, so if you hurl in it, so help me God, Grey, I will murder you with a scalpel."

Meredith look at him in absolute shock, her mouth dropping open. "You wouldn't!" she exclaimed in a panicked whisper.

Mark put his hand on the top of the car and leaned in through the door. "You wanna try me?" he asked seriously.

"No," Meredith answered immediately, shaking her head.

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other," he smirked, before shutting the door and going around so that he could get in.

Once Mark was in and they were on the way, he turned on the radio and the pulsating beats of hip-hop soon filled the car.

_I'm on a moneymaking mission, _

_but I party like a rockstar  
I'm flyin' down 20, lookin' good in my hot car  
You know them hoe be at my show, _

_grabbin' where my chain go,  
I'm tryna grab hold of my pants, _

_but these hoes wont let my thang go,_

_  
I do it like I do it, cuz you know them hoes bein' tryin'  
oh don't you know I fuck with fine dimes that look like Pamela,  
they fine and they hot bruh, when I'm in the spot bruh,  
I party like a rockstar!_

"What is this crap?" Meredith asked, covering her ears, as Mark tried (in vain) to rap along.

"What? It's good," Mark scoffed.

"It's crap," she repeatd. "I'm going to find some real music."

"Hey!" Mark exclaimed when Meredith began fiddling with the radio dial in search of something else.

"Oh!" she squealed excitedly, finding something she liked. "Old School Britney. You before she went all psychotic, shaving her head and flashing her goodies and what not."

Mark rolled his eyes. "And this is real music?"

"At least you can understand what she's saying. Listen," she demanded, as she began singing along with Britney, complete with the hand gestures.

_Oops!...I did it again  
I played with your heart, got lost in the game  
Oh baby, baby  
Oops!...You think I'm in love  
That I'm sent from above  
I'm not that innocent_

At the end of the chorus, Meredith turned to look at Mark, who was subconsciously mouthing along.

"Ha! I caught you! You are _so_ busted!" she exclaimed triumphantly, giggling hysterically.

"What?" Mark asked, trying to sound innocent.

"You were _SO_ singing along, don't even try to deny it!"

He shrugged. "What can I say? It's a catchy song," he admitted.

Suddenly, Meredith looked up toward the ceiling of the car. "Do you hear that?" she asked urgently.

Mark took his eyes off the road long enough to look at Meredith like she was absolutely losing it. "The song? Yeah."

"No. The other thing."

"What?"

She turned the radio off, and when she did, the sounds of sirens became crystal clear. "I think it's birds," Meredith said, looking all around her.

Mark glanced in his rearview mirror, and sure enough, red and blue flashing lights quickly danced across the car. "Oh, shit," he muttered, looking down at the odometer, which read "87." "Shit," he exclaimed, more loudly as he pulled over to the side of the road.

"Why are we stopping?" Meredith wondered.

He shut off the ignition, "The fucking cops are pulling us over," he said, slamming his hands on the steering wheel.

"Because we're listening to Britney?" she asked, looking confused.

Mark looked back in the rearview mirror again, and saw the cop approaching. "Listen to me, Grey," he said, grabbing, Meredith's face with his hands to get her to focus on him. "It's a female cop. Just stay quiet, don't make any stupid, drunk comments, and I'll talk my way out of this in two minutes. You got it?" he asked.

As drunk as she was, Meredith could still decipher the sense of urgency in his eyes. She nodded her head, telling him she understood, and she pantomimed zipping her lips. "Good." Mark said, knowing that was a good as he was going to get from the intoxicated intern.

The cop rapped on the window. Mark rolled it down. "Evening, officer. What seems to be the trouble?" he asked politely, giving her his infamous grin.

"Do you know how fast you were going?" she asked, her voice letting him know that she meant business.

But then again, that wasn't about to stop Mark. "Well, Officer…" he began, trailing off to look at her nametag. "Isabelle Davis," he read. "Isabelle," he said, looking back at her. "That's a gorgeous name."

"That Izzie's name!" Meredith implied with excitement.

Mark's head shot around to give her a stern look. "Shut it, Grey," he whispered through clenched teeth. "Remember what I said?"

Meredith's eyes widened when she realized she had messed up. She zipped her lip again. Mark turned back to the officer. "So, anyway, Isabelle. Is that French? Or-"

Officer Davis cut him off, she was not about to fall for any of his crap. "I will be the one asking the questions, sir."

"Mark, please," he insisted, not giving up.

Thinking for a moment, that they were back in the bar and the officer was a target, Meredith spoke up. "It's McSteamy!" she exclaimed.

Officer Davis look past Mark to shine her flashlight on Meredith. "She's drunk," she concluded correctly. "Have you had anything to drink, _sir_?" she asked Mark.

"I did have a drink, yes, but I am not drunk," Mark said truthfully.

She examined Mark's eyes, checking for any signs of intoxication. When she couldn't find any, she sighed. "I'll believe you. You weren't swerving. But you _were_ going 87 in a 60 zone," she informed him.

"Was I?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I can't believe-"

"I'm going to need to see your license and registration."

"No problem," Mark said, reaching over Meredith to dig through his glove compartment for his registration. He handed it to the officer and retrieved his license from his jeans pocket, handing that over as well. "Here you go."

Officer Davis shone her light on Mark's information. "This is a New York license."

"Yeah, I just moved here a few months ago and I-"

"Your car has Washington plates."

"I-" Mark began as he searched for a logical explanation, starting to get worried

"So you had time to switch the car information, but not your own?" she asked, continuing to drill him.

"The car is new. I bought it in Seattle. I figured I could just change my license over when it expired," he explained.

"It doesn't work like that, sir. If you're driving a car registered in Washington, you must have a valid Washington driver's license."

"I'm sorry, I was not aware of that," Mark apologized sincerely. "I'll get right down to the DMV tomorrow," he promised.

She looked at the license again. "Sir, were you aware that this license expired 2 years ago?"

"What?" Mark asked, actually shocked. He had no idea.

"I'm going to have to issue you a ticket."

Mark's mind went back into "charm my way out of this mode." "Oh, come on. Is that really necessary?" he asked, turning on his seductive voice. "I'm sure we can work something out," he said, looking Officer Davis up and down suggestively.

"Okay, that is it," she said angrily, opening Mark's door. "You're coming with me."

"What? On what charge?" he asked.

"Excessive speeding, driving with an expired license, harassing an officer. Need I go on?"

Mark turned to Meredith, who was looking at her nail in fascination, totally oblivious to what was going on around her. "But what about her? She's in no state to drive," he said, trying to come up with any excuse he could.

"She's coming too."

"But-"

"She's with you, that makes her an accomplice. I'm going to need you both to step out of the car and put your hands behind your back."

He sighed in frustration. He could see there was now way he was going to talk his way out of this one. "Get out of the car, Grey," he told her, deciding to cooperate.

Meredith looked out the window. "But this isn't my house," she said, turning to look at him in confusion.

"We're taking a little detour."

"Where?" she wondered, sounding excited to be going on an adventure.

"The police station," Mark told her straight-out.

"Oh," Meredith said, accepting it. But then after a moment, it sunk it. "Wait-why?!"

Mark looked at her embarrassedly. "Because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

Meredith looked past him, and for the first time noticed the police officer standing at the window, finally realizing the severity of the situation. "And you told me not to make any stupid comments so we wouldn't get in trouble."

* * *

"Time out," Izzie said, interrupting once again, forming a "T" with her hands. "McSteamy acts like an idiot, and you had to go down with him?" 

Meredith just shook her head wearily. "Don't ask me why, but yeah."

"So, what happened next?" Alex wondered.

"The cop took us downtown and freaking threw us in a cell."

"Seriously?!" Izzie gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth.

"Seriously," Meredith repeated, shaking her head.

Alex snickered. "Dude, I hope some guy really gave it to Sloan, if you know what I mean."

"Alex! That wasn't very nice," Meredith admonished.

"What?" Alex asked innocently. "The guy's an ass. It's only fitting that some guy would, you know, just take him right-"

"Yeah, that's enough," Izzie decided, cutting him off just in time. "Let Meredith finish the story."

"So, yeah," Meredith said, taking a deep breath and looking between her roommates. "Once we were in jail, in our own cell I might add," she shot, shooting a look at Alex. "and then…"

* * *

"This place is a freaking buzz kill," Mark commentated, looking around the tiny, damp, jail cell. There was a bench on either side of the cell, a toilet in the corner which an indistinguishable stench coming from it, and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling which flickered every few seconds. And, and let's not forget to mention the 50 different species of bugs that were scattered about. 

"You're telling me," Meredith, who occupied one of the benches, muttered. She had managed to sober up completely between the ride in the back of the cop car and being thrown into a disease-infested holding cell. "I'm calling Derek." she announced.

Mark, who had been pacing, stopped and sat down on the bench opposite of Meredith. "What?" he asked in disbelief.

"We each get a phone call, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's usually how it works."

"Well, I'm using it. There's no way I'm staying here. I'm calling Derek," she said, standing up to call over the guard.

"Nuh-uh. No way," Mark insisted, going over to her and pulling her back down on the bench with him. "I finally worked my way back to semi-civil terms with him and I'm pretty sure finding me in jail with his girlfriend is going to put the kibosh on that."

Meredith, forgetting for a moment that they were in jail, looked at him incredulously. "Did you seriously just say 'kibosh'?" she asked, her lips pursing in amusement.

"So I like to say kibosh. It's a fun word, "he said, defensively. "Kibosh," he said again. Go on, try it," he told her. "Kibosh."

"Kibosh."

He smirked. "See?"

"Well, it was kinda fun," Meredith admitted grudgingly.

"Kibosh."

"Ki-," she began again before she remembered their current situation. "Hold it. We need to stop saying kibosh and focus here."

"You're putting the kibosh on kibosh?"

"Stop it," Meredith admonished, smacking him lightly on the head. "I'm serious. I'm calling him."

"Can't you call one of your little friends?" Mark asked.

Meredith rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe they were even having this discussion. "Need I remind you that me and my 'little friends' are interns. They're not going to have any money for bail. Although _you _should," she said, remembering that the were in jail because Mark was speeding in his $400,000+ car.

He turned his pockets inside out, showing her that they were empty. "I don't have any money on me."

"What?! Then how were you paying for all my drinks at the bar?" she asked, it not making any sense.

Mark shrugged. "Joe put them on my tab."

"Oh, my God, we're going to rot in here," Meredith said, distressed. But after a minute, she shook her head, recomposing herself. "Wait. What I am talking about? Of course we're not going to rot in here because _I'm calling Derek_!" she exclaimed loudly, jumping up from the bench.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Mark said sing-songily.

Meredith stuck one foot out and placed her hand on her hip, the classic "angry female pose." "Give me one good reason why not."

Mark stood up and got right up in her space until they were mere inches apart, looking down at her, straight in the eyes. "How do you think he's going to feel when he finds you in jail? _With me_?"

They stood there, toe-to-toe, staring each other down until Meredith, going over Mark's words in her head, finally wavered. She looked away and ducked around and sat back down huffily. "That's what I thought," Mark said smugly, sitting back down beside her.

"Well, fine. If you're so smart, how do you propose we get out of here?" Meredith asked sarcastically.

"Simple. We'll call somebody else," he stated.

"Like who?"

"I don't know. I have no friends."

"Ugh!" Meredith groaned, way beyond frustrated. "This is just great! Absolutely perfect!" she exclaimed, almost laughing at the irony of it all. "This is all _your _fault!" she shouted, pointing at Mark accusingly.

"My fault?" he asked, placing a hand over his heart. "How is this my fault?"

This time, Meredith really did laugh. This guy was _unbelievable_. "Seriously?! Where do I begin? Speeding with an expired license? Or maybe sexual harassment against a _police officer_? The fact that you have no form of money on you whatsoever? You really wanna go there?"

Mark thought about that for a second. "Okay, yeah, maybe it is my fault," he acknowledged.

"And you're seriously not going to let me call Derek?"

He sighed in defeat. "I guess we don't really have a choice. Call him."

Meredith got up and went over to the door. "But you're going to be the one to explain the situation to him," Mark told her.

"Fine. Whatever. He trusts me."

"If you say so," Mark scoffed.

Meredith chose to ignore that last comment. "Umm, excuse me? Mr. Prison Guard Sir? I'd like to use my phone call now."

The guard unlocked the door and Meredith slid out, leaving Mark behind to read the graffiti on the walls.

After reading a twenty or so "If you're looking for a good time, call…" Meredith came back, entering the cell with an unreadable expression on her face and sat down on the bench Mark wasn't occupying. "So?" Mark asked, prompting her say something, _anything_. "What'd he say? Is he coming?"

Meredith buried her head in her hands. "Not exactly," she muttered, not looking at Mark.

"'Not exactly'? What the hell does that mean?" he wondering, his voice raising slightly.

She took her head out of her hands to look at him. "It means he didn't pick up his phone and I forgot he was on call," she admitted sheepishly.

"Oh, well, that's just fan-freaking-tastic," he spat sarcastically. "I _told_ you not to call him. What are we going to do now?"

Meredith looked at him hopefully. "You still have your call," she reminded him.

Mark stroked his beard in thought, shaking his head. "I thought we went over this, Grey. I don't _have _anyone to call."

"There's always Addison."

He looked at Meredith thoughtfully. "I guess it's worth a shot."

Mark, in the same fashion as Meredith, called the guard over and he was led to the phone to make his call.

Before long, he returned to find Meredith pacing around the small cell.

"What did she say?" Meredith asked, practically pouncing on him when the guard locked him back in the cell.

Mark scratched his head with a sigh. "I believe her exact words were 'Karma's a bitch, isn't it?' before she hung up."

Meredith's jaw dropped. "What does that supposed to mean?"

"If I had to guess I'd have to say it had something to do with the fact that I'm in jail is a direct result of me trying to charm my way out of a situation."

"Did you tell her I'm here? Maybe she come get me and leave your sorry ass here."

"No, Grey. I did not get to mention that you were here too. But I can't imagine Addison'd be thrilled at the idea of bailing her ex-husband's mistress out of jail."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. We are _so_ far past that."

"Well, good for you."

"I know," Meredith smirked. But her little victory was short-lasting, because she realized they still had no way to get out of jail. "Oh, my God," she said, sinking to the ground, feeling nauseous. "We both used our one phone call. No one is going to bail us out. What are we going to do?" she asked, looking at Mark desperately.

Mark just shook his head and took a seat on the ground next to Meredith. Staring straight ahead, he could only take a deep breath and mutter, "Hell if I know."

* * *

"And that's it. That's the story," Meredith finished, looking at her roommates, who, in return, were looking at her with their mouths wide open. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Alex said hurriedly, holding up his hands. "Slow down. That's _it_?!" he exclaimed incredulously.

Izzie nodded, agreeing with Alex. "Yeah, don't leave us hanging. How did you manage to get out of there?" she asked.

Meredith shrugged. "Turns out the maximum holding time for our 'crimes' is 4 hours. They let us go with just a ticket for Sloan's speeding and expired license."

"Well, that was oddly anticlimactic," Alex commented, running his hand over his head.

"So let me get this straight," Izzie said to Meredith, trying to sort out everything Meredith had just old her. "You spent a very, very, odd strange, quasi-bonding night with Sloan. I mean, wingman, cellmate. Are you two, like, _friends_?" she asked, both her facial expression and her voice showing Meredith her disgust at that prospect.

"Well, I don't know about that," Meredith said, shrugging, before she started up the stairs to go to bed. Once she reached the top, she turned back around to face her roommates. "For now, I'd just say we're more like accomplices."

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so maybe the whole "getting arrested" thing was a little unbelievable, but I had fun writing it. Please let me know what you think. Reviews are mucho appreciated! 


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